Golden Globes
by duncey
Summary: Ricky Gervais gets hot and bothered before hosting the Golden Globes award ceremony


Golden Globes

Ricky set the toilet seat down, a ritual he was becoming more accustomed to with each chance he had to host the Golden Globes. The year was 2016 and it was that time of year again, the glitz and glam of Hollywood had once again behest him to come and shower a retinue of vitriol down upon them.

Feeling content Ricky sheathed his member within his Tesco own brand boxer shorts. "Always good for a joke, are my cheap tendencies." He opined. They were beginning to stiffen under the weight of his post-ejaculative secretions.

Ricky left the cubicle, passing a man washing his hands in the provided wash basin.

"That's a bit gay, are a you a mong." Ricky chided gently to the fellow, who turned out to be his Office protegé Steven Carell. Steven snorted, but it was obviously a forced laugh, as he didn't find Ricky's joke funny in the slightest.

"Oh well. See you retard." Supplied Ricky as he danced through the door into the hallways of the big Golden Globe building.

The meeting with Steven had left him feeling sour. Forcing his way through the throng of mindless Americans Ricky arrived at his dressing room, which had a drawing of a penis in the throws of orgasm, casting it's sullen load over his name. He pretended he didn't know who had done it, and regularly pointed at it and talked about it all day. Of course he had drawn it himself, but nobody had to know that.

"Classic", gibbed Ricky as he slid slovenly into his chamber.

Slouching on the provided sofa Ricky flipped open his macbook Air, tenderly sliding his hands over the trackpad. He opened up whatever a mac uses to write words down, tapping away on the miniature keyboard. His chance meeting with Steve had provided him with the inkling for a new joke, something about poor people this time.

He felt the sensation spread as he typed away. As was becoming custom with his writing these days he was beginning to grow in his private area.

"Hello cheeky", chided Ricky, as his prick expanded, pressing into the fat which hung down over his waist.

He had to stop writing. The window saved, storing his joke for future use. His fingers navigated the cursor to the Safari window. A new tab opened, google, the place where dreams begin and futures end. He entered in his destination, Amazon. He clicked it on the google result, rather than typing it in the address bar. It felt good having someone else do all the work for him.

Amazon opened, dot com not dot co dot uk.

"It may not be localised to my personal preference, but I'm here to browse not buy", he thought, in his mind.

He navigated the confusing interface, books children's books 6-8 years old. He knew his way around by now, he'd been here before. The flowing cascade of products strengthening his erection to breaking point. He had to free his member from it's prison. Tugging open his Marks and Spencer suit trousers, the chill of freedom exciting him even more.

He scanned over the latest releases, his eyes alighting on the best sellers list. He scrunched his large pubic bush between his fingers, bringing his hand to his face and inhaling the fumes. He clicked the touchpad, the accuracy of Apple's proprietary touchpad technology bringing him directly to the title he'd requested.

Disney's Frozen: A Tale of Two Sisters.

"Let's get this show on the road", Ricky said aloud, perhaps hoping someone would hear, and think he was performing a clever visual joke.

He swapped hands, using his right hand to stroke and grab at his engorged dick. His left hand moving around the page, his eyes flitting between the description and the beautiful hand drawn cover. He grasped his rod directly in the palm of his hand, this wasn't going to be time for a gentle chimney sweep, this time he played for keeps.

Ricky began pounding away, bringing his uncircumcised skin up to cover his bulbous head and back down again. There was no slow engagement in this battle. He was quickly up to speed and honking as hard as he ever had before. His excitement making it hard to scroll down. He tried scrolling slowly, to hold back, to hold onto this moment for as long as possible.

The reviews began to appear, discussing the age group that the book would be suitable for. Step 2 (of 5), something about grade school, whatever that meant. Ricky began laughing, visibly shaking with pleasure.

"Fucking retard idiots" squeaked through his throat and out past his teeth. He squinted, his erratic movements making it hard to read the rest of the review. "Got this for your 2 year old and both really enjoyed it? fucking mongs", he cried. Tears of laughter breaking free of his eyes, where they formed in sacks.

"My daughter loves it? I bet she does" He grinned, his face split in half by a hole that contained his mouth.

He was quickly running out of time, he felt the pressure growing in his loin, pushing him to complete his mission. A few hard, rushed jousts of his marbled cock finally brought him to a languid end. He was spent. His seed covered his disgusting hairy belly. Trickling down onto his hand which still held his silently weeping soldier. His left hand was still on the laptop, he switched apps, bringing back the writing application. He quickly typed his new jokes into the machine one handed.

"All children are retards and mongs", he proof read his joke. This would go down well during his next sell-out stadium tour.


End file.
